Chapter 984: Stephen Strange
"Pull it up."
After thinking for a moment, Harry continued.
Following the command, Prometheus projected an email into the air.
The sender field really did read "Stephen Strange."
Harry stared at that name for several seconds.
He hadn't expected this man to somehow get hold of his private email address—
The email was very long, beginning with Strange's résumé as a doctor.
He held dual doctorates in medicine, was New York's top neurosurgeon, and had once appeared on the cover of Time magazine.
Then came the turning point.
Two weeks ago, a car accident had sent him and his vehicle over a cliff.
He had survived, but both hands had suffered comminuted fractures. His ulnar and radial nerves had been completely severed, and he could not even hold chopsticks.
What followed was a long passage that was practically pleading.
He had heard that Osborn Group's biological laboratory was conducting clinical trials in nerve regeneration. He was willing to sign any confidentiality agreement, even to use himself as a lab rat, as long as Harry Osborn gave him a chance.
Harry stroked his chin.
At this point in time, Dr. Strange should have lost his entire fortune and gone to Nepal in search of the mysterious Kamar-Taj, eventually becoming the Sorcerer Supreme.
But now, because of Osborn Group's monopoly in biomedical technology, this future leader of the magical world had actually come to beg him to fix his hands.
"Prometheus, reply to him."
"Tell him to come to the top floor of Osborn Tower tomorrow morning at nine to see me."
After giving it some thought, Harry issued the instruction.
"Yes, Sir. The email has been sent."
Queens, New York, in a cheap semi-basement apartment.
A pipe on the ceiling leaked water, dripping onto the unwashed dishes